


To Fight and to Fall

by Astray



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Durin Feels, Feels!, Gen, battle of the five armies, spoilers for end of The Hobbit, this author is evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when they know they are lost, they are not backing down. For such are Durin's Heirs and Aulë's children. The fight is theirs and theirs alone. And they will win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Fight and to Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to 'Ring Frei' by LaFee and I wanted to write a battle scene, out of the blue. And halfway through I realized what I was doing and I regret nothing. 
> 
> Of course, I don't own them because if I did, there would be no feels wreckage!
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmSoNliJl6c

The sounds of war tearing through stones, mountains moaning under booted feet. The long forgotten halls ringing again with the clash of steel and the rage that breathed down their necks. And to the fields they ran – the death waiting – halls of waiting with their forefathers – a last battle to reclaim what was lost. Long-times enemies against the defiling races. There will be no forgiveness, no prisoner, no life spared. The sharp tang of madness urge them on – moving like a single body and hatred coursing in place of blood. Axes shattering bones – he was close, the arrows sizzling past and tearing down bodies – swords dripping red and again the swarming multitude, overwhelming. They would never forget – the long forgotten songs of the dead – the burned kinsmen. The poisonous memories. The despair of the living ones. The curses of the dying. 

A look from their king and again they launched themselves against the mismatched bodies of the orcs, tearing limbs apart, blood like rain – black as tar. Heavy. On their mind, their kin – mother, uncles, grand-father and great-grand-father, all dead – all maimed. He raised his weapons again, never tiring, his bones resisting the splitting pain of wounds, his muscles working endlessly – to fight and protect. He would not back down, not now. A spear barely missed his side and fear hit him hard. He saw the sword cleaving into his king's side and for one instant, he wished to forget. Forget he was there – he wished they had never come. A scream tore through his ears – not realizing it was coming from his own throat. A bright flame, a match struck in the darkest tunnel – the sharp knowledge that Thorin would not die without them. And he would make him proud. He stood his ground, protect with body and blades, relentlessly guarding the one who had taught him to fight. His brother was close, he knew. The arrows had stopped whizzing past him – and soon, a blade protruded from the chest of a goblin coming to the side. His brother, dark hair mated with blood, face grim. Every inch of him, Durin's kin. And together they stood. He was weary with long journeys, lack of food and most of all, the gnawing thought that he would never survive – but he will get his brother out of it. Even if he had to die – he will save him. For and against. 

He knew what he was thinking even before their eyes met. It was in the set of his jaw, the relentless stare – the steadfast posture. They will fall – and if they fall, they will take them all with them. More orcs and goblins coming, like the sea on shores – and they met them with deadly accuracy – Durin's folk not ones to ever fall easily. Deep down, he hoped against hope that they will survive – and that Thorin will be proud of them. He felt someone stir behind him – knew it was Thorin himself rising from ground again. As though the stone itself was lending life to their blood. A scream that seemed to be born from the mountain itself – ripping through air – the ancient power of their maker. And for one instant, he knew – he knew that Mahal was protecting them. His eyes bright with renewed valour, he struck his enemies down. He could hear the song of hammers and axes, the beating of foes into bloody pulp into the ground. He heard the ancient calls in Khuzdul and though he did not speak it fluently, the words flew out of his mouth, the teeth-shattering roar of the Valar through their bones brought to life. His arms were moving on their own and it was as though his entire body was dissociated from his mind. He felt his brother scream – silent crumbling of body into broken heap on the ground – the black sword from his chest torn. The goblin never could hope to sever head from body. His own head to the ground flying. He knew he was screaming – how could he not hear? The sounds of battle muted in grief – the pain searing into his side – arrows, he knew it. But he will not fall – his knee gave out. No. He could not fall! Not now! Not like this! His eyes blinded – he barely registered. He saw him fall. Not him. No! With a last surge of blinding rage, he snarled at his foes, destroying those who would approach and desecrate the fallen. He would join them no doubt. And so when the arrow came – he smiled at it as he slew more Orcs. These would not – choke. He could not breath – pain tore into his neck – his lungs refusing air – blood invading – he knew... it was to not avail – he would fall. And it angered him. The pain would not go – felt his body fall backward. Air leaving for good – mouth filling with blood. His mind was hazy. He could not see right. He felt it... a hand slipping into his. He knew each calluses as his own – his brother. He squeezed his hand – another hand in his hair. He could have cried. But there was no more tears. Nothing to spare – the pain took it all. He saw... he thought he saw... heard... a bright voice in the haze. Telling him not to fear, that he would not be alone. Mahal. Delusion washing away as dark crept in... He did what he could... He really did. Blackness-


End file.
